Do You Want A Bowl Of Oatmeal?
by Kommi
Summary: Beatrice and Tobias were two sides of the same coin, unfortunately that coin was beginning to split apart. A story of salvaging and putting back together a relationship before it becomes irreplaceable.


sorry about my grammar :( I feel like the content is more important that the way I say it. I also just have really bad grammar.

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By the time I realized that it had actually been at least a month since the last time I spoke to anyone in my phone's contacts, everyone that I used to speak to had already cut their ties with me and sent out the farewells on social media that they couldn't find the courage to send to me directly. Not that I had any room to talk or criticize.

Time moved a lot slower than you would normally expect when you dont have any obligations or repsonsibilities to drag yourself out of your bed in the mornings; or any other time for that matter. Sometimes I would dismiss this habit as casual introvertedness, but at the same time that explanation didn't feel like it gave enough credit to the heavy chains that sapped my motivation and hindered my sluggish movements.

You empathized with these feelings that I couldn't quite understand; you offered a perspective different than my own and an outlet to let that perspective influence my thoughts and ideas. I think that was why you were the last person I stopped talking to or checking in with.

But even after we stopped communicting, I still spoke to you through the note pad beside my bed or the old desktop computer on top of the old work desk that I still left cluttered with the old papers from classes that I stopped going to and books that I knew I was never going to finish.

I spoke to you in ways that I never could have if I thought you were ever going to actually hear it; in lengths that I'm sure you would have dismissed as the ramblings of a crazy person if I ever sent them. And after I had finished what I was trying to portray with whatever I was writing, I would throw my words away as a means to ignore my own thoughts, to a certain extent at least.

You became an extention of myself, a protector walking a few paces ahead of me on the path we shared as to warn me of the harmful obstacles that you powered through and shrugged off as little more than inconveniences. You never let these inconveniences weaken your resolve or slow your pace, and I respected that like I respected nothing else in the shallow hole that I had dug for myself.

"When you have trouble talking to people, just imagine that you are better than them. It's easy to speak with confidence to people you dont respect, even if you secretly do."

I molded myself in the images I caught in glimpses of you until I found us almost indistinguishable from each other. I captured the parts that you yourself couldn't recognize and put them to the front of myself as if to show you what I was capable of creating. Now I realize that this action was closer to my taunting you than it was to my respecting you. You noticed that long before I ever could.

Your warnings of the obstacles ahead became more and more sparce as you took a position farther and farther ahead of me. You stopped looking back to me whenever you reached something you felt dangerous enough to warn me of, instead simply calling over your shoulder the steps that I should take to avoid any harm. But it became harder and harder to hear your voice clearly, and the obstacles you saw fit to avoid slowly began to outsmart your words and take their toll on me both physically and mentally.

"If you take this much of it, you can change into the person you want to be. It'll kill the things you didn't like about yourself.

The back of your head became my sun and moon while the footsteps you left in the ground beneath the both of us became my sole desire and religion. But you refused to look me in the eye or meet my gaze. You were the last one that would.

"Find God in whatever you're doing, it's always good to have a fallback if things don't work out."

In my dreams you spoke to me for hours on end that night, though these were the only words that I could clearly remember you saying. When I looked online I saw that you ended up taking your own life during my peaceful slumber.

You came upon a roadblock, an obstacle that you couldn't overcome. And if my guide, my sun, my religion couldn't find the strength; I had no place trying.

And so I stopped showing up to my classes. I stopped answering my phone. I stopped keeping in contact with my friends and colleagues. I sparcely left my bedroom.

"Do you want a bowl of oatmeal?"


End file.
